


The End of All Things

by juxtapose



Series: Merlin/Arthur Reincarnation [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 21:16:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3503069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juxtapose/pseuds/juxtapose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As humanity begins to lose their five senses one by one, social media is used by the Once and Future King to keep the world from losing its collective mind, and Merlin and Arthur keep each other from losing theirs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End of All Things

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Greetings! It’s my first fic of 2015 (YAY)! I’m publishing this as part of a series I haven’t updated in ages, but I always left it open in case I wanted to return to more Merthur post-finale Modern AUs. Glad I did! This concept is based off the film _Perfect Sense_ which stars Ewan McGregor and Eva Green. It’s a really good, eerie film I recommend to everyone! Enjoy.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own _Merlin_ or _Perfect Sense_ , but I do own my tears produced while writing this.

_This is the way the world ends / not with a bang, but with a whimper._

The words drum in Merlin’s head like a song. He remembers when T.S. Eliot himself wrote the poem.

The state of Europe after the Great War could only be described as ‘displaced.’ Merlin would know. He’d fought in it.

Now he is fighting an altogether different war.

And, he thinks as he squeezes Arthur’s hand, it will be—finally—his last.

* * *

It began with the sense of smell.

Merlin got home from a very long Friday at the school, covered in children’s messy fingerpaint and a whole lot of pent-up frustration. It had been a strange day—a hectic one, too; the children had been nearly impossible to deal with.

“Arthur?” he called into the flat, tossing his keys onto coffee table with a loud _clang_. “You home yet?”

“Yeah, just got in,” was Arthur’s voice coming from the kitchen. Merlin shuffled warily in to find Arthur sautéing something or other at the cooker. His tie was undone and hanging loosely on his shoulders, shirt untucked from his trousers, God he was beautiful. Though it’d been a while enough since Arthur had come back from Avalon, Merlin sometimes couldn’t believe he was fortunate enough to have the love of his life—no, his existence—returned to him.

“God, I had such a shite day. How was yours?” He walked up behind Arthur and smiled cheerfully as he wrapped his arms around him from behind, peeking around the other’s broad shoulders. “Ooh, peppers. Yum. I’m surprised I couldn’t smell them when I walked in.”

At the remark, Arthur started and whirled around, causing Merlin to stumble back a bit. “What did you say?” he said, practically all in one breath.

“Erm,” Merlin quirked a brow, significantly startled by Arthur’s strange reaction to the sentiment. “I said I couldn’t smell the red peppers when I came in. Which means I probably can’t taste them either, if I’ve got a cold,” he added, disappointment in his tone.

Arthur leaned heavily against the counter. “Not you, too,” he all but whined, “I can’t smell a damn thing today. Think I’ve caught a cold myself or something; it’s going round the publishing house, even my father’s got it.” He furrowed his brow. “Did you really already catch it from me? I barely feel ill at all.”

The vegetables began to sizzle, and Merlin reached over to adjust the cooker settings. Hesitantly, he leaned over and took a giant whiff of the veggies. Nothing. “This…is very, very odd,” he said slowly. “You can’t smell anything at all either?”

He straightened up and peered at Arthur seriously, who lifted his hands in surrender. “Whatever I passed along to you, I take full responsibility for all the chemist runs to get the medication…but it’s not my fault you just can’t get enough of me--”

“No, no,” interjected Merlin. Before he could register his own movements he began to pace in the small kitchen, calling back to late nights in Gaius’ quarters in Camelot Castle, where ideas, both promising and ominous alike, came together like puzzle pieces. “At school. During my afternoon classes. The kids kept pressing their noses into the paint—which is dangerous because of the toxins. I thought they were just playing some silly game, but they all kept telling me they couldn’t _smell_ it anymore.” He pivoted to look at Arthur again, who was returning the gaze with wide eyes. “I thought they were just getting used to the scent, but…”

Arthur had already whipped out his mobile from his pocket, beginning to scroll with his thumb, tapping his foot. Merlin, meanwhile, had sunk into a chair, confusion written in every pore that made up his expression.

“My God,” Arthur’s voice cut into the silence.

Merlin’s head snapped up to find Arthur’s face contorted into one of sheer dismay. “Arthur? What is it?”

“Don’t know why I didn’t see it before. Why none of us saw…it’s trending all over. Online, on telly, everywhere—”

“Arthur, for God’s sake, what is it?” Arthur’s tone was low, in the dangerously serious kind of way Merlin remembered from early days of battle. “Their sense of smell is gone.” “Whose?” Merlin stood up, looking over Arthur’s shoulder at the phone screen:

_AP EXCLUSIVE: BREAKING, 6 MINUTES AGO: LOSS OF OLFACTION TAKES OVER AROUND THE WORLD_

Arthur responded audibly, though the answer was apparent: “Everyone’s.”

* * *

Doctors from around the world were puzzled. Scientists gathered in plethoric numbers to discuss the potential causes of the so-called outbreak, and the potential solutions. News stations discussed nothing else; environmentalists blamed gaseous fumes and religions factions blamed sin. Everyone had a different theory—what they all had in common, though, was that none of them could explain the entire human race’s loss of the sense of smell.

So humanity did what they always do—they adapted. In a matter of a few short months, daily life changed around the world, however minimally. Florists emphasized exotic colors and species combinations in their plant arrangements as opposed to sweet scents.

Tasting was different. Restaurants and food corporations took to more sweet and spicy flavors that catered to tastebuds in their recipes to entice the average customer—who could no longer be lured into an establishment based on the fresh aroma of biscuits just out of the oven. Merlin gently cautioned his students against trying to sniff the undetectable—yet existent—paint fumes in the art classroom. Arthur, in tandem with his father, found new and inventive ways to market recipe books.

And life went on. Merlin awoke each morning and felt for the warm sun on his face from the bedroom window, heard busy London below, saw the even rise and fall of Arthur’s chest as he slept.

Life went on, until, in the middle of a bustling café on a Saturday, Arthur placed his cup back in its saucer and announced, staring down at his lap, “I can’t taste my tea.”

* * *

  **WORLDWIDE EPIDEMIC? THE U.N. DISBANDS WITH MORE QUESTIONS**

**WATCH: MOM FROM HOUSTON, TX FEEDS HER BABY BRUSSEL SPROUTS. “THEY’RE GOOD FOR HER, AND SHE CAN’T TASTE THEM, ANYWAY.”**

**POLL: WHICH OF THE REMAINING 3 SENSES WOULD YOU PREFER TO LOSE NEXT?**

“Dammit.” Merlin slammed shut yet another magic book and tossed it across the living room floor, letting it crash into the wall with a reverberating _thud_. He tugged at strands of his hair, dug his fingernails into the skin of his scalp. School had been let out for a few days as England’s public school system attempted to find a more effective meal plan—their kids weren’t eating anymore with nothing to taste—leaving Merlin to stew in his own thoughts for hours at a time.

Thoughts and spells and incantations. Merlin swam in them. Arthur arrived home from work to find the other in a heap on the floor, surrounded by crumpled up texts and scribbled notes, trembling. Not even Arthur’s presence could soothe him as the latter knelt down in front of him. “Merlin.” Arthur’s voice was calm but his worried expression betrayed him. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Nothing. And that's just it! I can’t _do_ anything about this!” was Merlin’s anguished reply, his head falling back against the wall. “Any of it! You’d think something that can’t be explained by anything natural could be fixed by something supernatural.” He gestured to the discarded papers around him. “But no. There’s spells for when you burn your tongue to get your taste buds back. There’s spells to even change the shape of your nose—can’t let Hollywood get a hold of that one—but nothing about losing the senses. It doesn’t…it doesn’t add up, Arthur.”

“You’ll figure something out. You always do.”

Merlin barked a one-syllable laugh. “Trust me, Arthur—in my experience, there’s no spell to fix the end of the world.”

Arthur scooted up against the wall beside Merlin so they were shoulder-to-shoulder, tilting his head to stare up at the ceiling. He asked, the question ringing loud in the room: “Do…do you really think that’s what this is? I mean, it’s what all the papers are saying, but…”

“I don’t know, Arthur,” Merlin sighed, leaning his head on the other’s shoulder. “I don’t know.” Neither would say it out loud, but they were united in the fact that they did not wish to know the answer.

* * *

They walked side-by-side in the park near their flat. Merlin held Arthur’s hand. Across the way was a bakery, and Arthur stopped to look at it. The lights were on inside, but it appeared entirely empty.

Merlin peered at the building, then back at Arthur who seemed lost in thought. “Arthur? You all right?”

“Hang on.” Arthur let go of Merlin’s hand and jogged across the street.

Merlin watched through the bakery window as Arthur dug out twenty quid from his back pocket, handing it to the baker behind the counter.

He and Merlin split a small loaf of bread though neither of them could taste it. Merlin imagined it was baked with love—and a little bit of unadulterated fear.

* * *

  **BREAKING: FOOD MARTS ROBBED, LOOTED**

**LONDONERS URGED TO STAY IN THEIR HOMES AFTER 7PM**

**LOST ALL SENSE?: RIOTS IN CHINA SPARK CONTROVERSY**

Arthur couldn’t sleep much these days. Merlin needed to cast an incantation—voice gentle, soft, alive—to get them both through the night.

One night he went out to the pub just for something to do, to get his mind off it all. When he stumbled home drunk, holding back tears he didn’t know had been hiding for so long, Merlin greeted him with nothing but open arms.

“Why am I like this?” he asked, face pressed into the warmth of Merlin’s neck.

“Because you’ve never stopped being who you are, my love,” Merlin replied, running a languid hand through Arthur’s hair. “You care too much.”

He said a few words in that effervescent language Arthur never could grasp, and then sleep took him over.

* * *

“You know,” Arthur murmured as he lay tangled up in Merlin, illuminated only by the hint of sun slipping through a crack in the blinds, “I don’t think I ever fully remembered all of it until now—Camelot. Being King Arthur. The whole of it.”

Merlin propped himself up on an elbow. “What d’you mean?”

“There’ve always been gaps, here and there. I mean, when we talk about it, you and I, I always seem to recall the little things, the adventures we happened on—the look on my father’s face when he…” Arthur trailed off, and Merlin, sensing the troubling memory, nuzzled his nose into Arthur’s collarbone. “But it’s funny. Ever since all this started, with everything people are losing, I _feel_ like King Arthur again. Does that make sense?”

Sitting up fully now, Merlin nodded slowly. “Arthur…Arthur, it makes _perfect_ sense. Don’t you see?” He took Arthur’s hands in both of his, blue eyes twinkling with newfound excitement. “This is it.”

“Erm.” Arthur blinked. “It’s what?”

“This is what you’re here for. This is why you were brought back five years ago—or your memory was, that is, out of Avalon. But it wasn’t just your memory. It was your spirit. Your _soul_. Reincarnated into _this_ body, for _this_ reason.”

“To…lose all my five senses?”

“And to think you call _me_ daft all the time.” Merlin sighed ostentatiously. “Arthur, you have the most commanding, powerful, inspiring presence of anyone I know. And that says a lot. I’ve lived for a decent chunk of world history.”

“I’m...marketing director at a publishing house in London, Merlin. That doesn’t exactly scream ‘Once and Future King.’ What am I supposed to do about this? You’re the one who said it. Not even magic can fix this. It’s _affecting_ people with magic. If you can’t fix it, what can I possibly do?”

“Oh, come off it, you prat.” Merlin swatted his arm, quite hard in fact, enough for Arthur to wince and half-wish his sense of touch had been diminished. “You can do what you’ve always done. Lead your people. And make sure they’re not afraid.”

“I’m not sure if the Prime Minister would like that very much.”

Merlin shrugged. “We’ll see about that. Plus, it's not as if he's got any better ideas. When was the last time he held a televised conference? Too long ago--”

“I’m not a doctor, Merlin. I’m not…anything. I was King Arthur once, but now I’m just…” He shook his head. “I’m a publisher. Just a man--”

“This has been tearing you up since it started,” interjected Merlin, lifting a hand to cup the side of Arthur’s face. “As if it were your responsibility. You’ve always been so fiercely protective of your kingdom, Arthur. Just because it’s no longer in your name doesn’t mean it doesn’t still belong to you.” Merlin leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Arthur’s forehead. “You were never ‘just a man,’ Arthur Pendragon. You never will be.” He pulled back to grin, a smile that reached the corners of his eyes. “Let’s get to work.”

* * *

“Okay, go.”

“Merlin, are you sure this is a good--”

“Oi. Remember that time you didn’t listen to me and Morgana tried to kill you? Or that other time you didn’t listen to me and Mordred _actually_ killed you?”

“—Ouch, that’s still five years fresh for me--”

“My point is I’m always right. Now, we’re rolling. I’ll cut this later. Go.”

Arthur sighed, sheepishly lifting his head to face the camera Merlin pointed at him. From behind the lens, Merlin gave him an affectionate look, full of encouragement, prompting him to take a big breath and begin to speak. “Hello to—well, to whomever is watching out there. My name’s Arthur, and I dunno if I’m the only one, but…I’m a bit scared of what’s happening right now. Not the loss of taste or smell—that we can get used to, can’t we?—but all the awful things people are doing in response. Maybe we should take a step back. Realize that in this mess, all we’ve got…”

He paused. Merlin peeked out from behind the camera again, nodding for him to go on. Looking directly into Merlin’s blues, Arthur finished: “…is each other. Anyway. Nobody seems to want to talk about it, so I thought I’d say it. We’re all afraid. We’re terrified. And that’s fine. But if we keep going on the way we are…”

When the video was finished and edited, Arthur stood over Merlin’s shoulder as it was uploaded to stream on the most popular video-watching website, YouWatch. “Did you create an account for me?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Merlin said dismissively with a wave of a hand. “Since the Internet gives you hives and all.”

“Shut up, Merlin. And anyway, I would’ve liked some input, perhaps.” Arthur crossed his arms in front of his chest. “What did you even use as my account name?”

Though Merlin’s face was turned toward the screen, Arthur could hear the smile in his reply: “Thought that’d be obvious, wouldn’t it?”

Arthur leaned forward, squinting at the bright computer monitor. Up in the right-hand corner of the webpage were his account details. The username: KingArthur.

* * *

In the middle of a sales pitch the following afternoon, Arthur’s phone hummed with a text from Merlin: “400 views already! xx”

After reading it, Arthur shook his head with a small laugh. He wasn’t an expert on social media quite yet, but he figured 400 wasn’t exactly revolutionary.

But an hour later, his mobile buzzed again, this time a message from a coworker: “Saw you trending online mate! Brilliant stuff.”

And another: “Art, was that u on YouWatch?? Didn’t know u had it in u!”

By half three, his phone was going off non-stop. And by the end of the day, Uther Pendragon was calling his son an “Online Celebrity.”

He came home to an influx of messages on his video account--a girl in Winchester saying his video inspired her mum, a chef, to keep cooking. A young man in Tennessee, USA asking for advice on how to want to keep living. A brother and sister in Spain, a single mother in Surrey...

With every ring of his mobile or chime of a new e-mail notification, he could hear Merlin’s cocky drawl of, “I told you so,” as clear as day.

* * *

  **@chibichika1: Whoever this Arthur guy is, he’s pretty convincing. Watched all 4 of his videos. #LongLivetheKing**

**@macklel3sz: Feeling super inspired right now. Stop the violence, just live. @KingArthur #KingArthurReturns #ItsTheEndoftheWorldAsWeKnowIt #AndIFeelFine**

**Amy Stephenson posted a VIDEO to her TIMELINE: “Check out this guy from Pendragon Publishing in England! Our world leaders are being suspiciously quiet right now…but at least someone is telling us that, YES, it’s okay to freak out, and NO, it’s not the end yet! (No, you’re not the only one who noticed the name…maybe he’s a descendant of King Arthur himself! ;] Who knows!) http://www.youwatch.net/watch/v=k1ngarthu4**

**THE GUARDIAN: KING ARTHUR IS BACK...ON YOUWATCH? 'KINGARTHUR' KEEPING WORRIES AT BAY WHILE WORLD LEADERS REMAIN SILENT, CRIME RATE IN UK AND USA DOWN 10%**

“You’re officially famous,” said Merlin a few weeks after the first posting on KingArthur’s YouWatch channel.

They sat on the couch, Merlin scrolling through Twitter on his phone, Arthur sprawled lout long-ways resting his head in Merlin’s lap. “I’m going to have to magick up some security detail for you. Also, don’t forget that no matter how much your fanbase loves you, I’m the one who gives you all the great sex.”

Arthur snorted. “Yeah. Sex is fine and all, but do _you_ make fan tribute videos of me to Whitney Houston’s ‘I Will Always Love You’?”

Merlin flicked a finger against Arthur’s forehead. “Ow! I’m _just_ saying, you could put your video-editing skills to even better use.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “I hate you.”

“I love you,” Arthur replied without a second’s pause.

Merlin couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Yeah. I know.”

* * *

Merlin awoke to Arthur violently shaking his shoulder. He bolted upright, watching with heavy lids as Arthur shouted at him, manic, gesticulating wildly.

Shouted—except Merlin couldn’t hear him.

Panicked, he grabbed Arthur’s shoulders. “Arthur?!” he called. He felt the vibration of the name leaving his throat and escaping his lips, but silence filled his ears. “Arthur. __Arthur.__ ”

He saw Arthur’s lips mouth, “Merlin,” over and over, but the warm, deep rumble of his voice wasn’t there to accompany the syllables, and the tears sprung to Merlin’s eyes before he could stop them.

Merlin stumbled out of bed, running to the bedroom window. Siren lights shone bright, making him squint. Out on the London streets below, people were stumbling out of their homes, arms wide and mouths wider, silently screeching. Someone threw a rock through a shop window—seemingly to test if she could hear the shattering glass—and the shards burst everywhere, like a beam of cutting, harsh light.

He turned away from the scene and Arthur was there to catch him when he sagged forward. Merlin found himself then, in spite of all rationale, clinging to Arthur’s worn out t-shirt and sobbing. Screaming. He could feel his throat hurting. Arthur ran his hands up and down Merlin’s back, sliding up under his tank top to trace the ridges of his backbone, kissing the top of Merlin’s head. He could feel Arthur whispering in the whisps of his hair that moved with Arthur’s breath as he spoke, though what he said was indiscernible. Of course he could be calm and collected now, holding the greatest sorcerer in the world in his arms.

King Arthur never wavered when a battle became a war. _ _  
__

* * *

  **YOUWATCH.NET: KINGARTHUR’S LATEST VIDEO 1.3M VIEWS**

**ARTHUR holds up a sign: “Hello, World.”**

**Another: “Seems like we have to fight another battle.”**

**“But we shouldn’t fight each other. We shouldn’t fight with anger, or malice, or contempt.”**

**“We fight with pride. Not only for our lives, but for the future.”**

**“Do we want to be remembered in the pages of history as the species that gave into their own selfish greed?”**

**“We fight a war as old as Earth itself. Against our own capacity for hatred and judgment. We must find joy within ourselves, despite everything. It doesn’t matter where from. Art. Religion. Sex. Love. Find it. The magic of the world is that there is always something new to find.”**

**“HOLD ON TO IT.” “Keep fighting. For yourselves, for your loved ones. And history will write us as the ones that had the power to be strong and united at the end of things.”**

**“The ones that kept magic alive.” /END VIDEO**

**WATCH AGAIN - SHARE - URL - SUBSCRIBE TO KINGARTHUR**

After it was posted, Arthur jotted down a worried query on the notepad he used to talk to Merlin these days. _Do you think it’ll make a difference?_

Merlin wrote back, _At least one person will watch it and be a little less afraid and a little more inspired. Doesn’t that matter?_ and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

 _That’s all that matters_. Arthur tossed the pad to the ground, gently easing Merlin to lower to the cushions of the sofa on which they both sat, pressing slow, sweet kisses to his jaw.

“What are you doing?” Merlin mouthed, the start of a smile on his mouth. Arthur snatched Merlin’s notepad, scribbling something down before tossing that one to the floor as well.

The answer read: FINDING THE MAGIC.

* * *

They left notes for each other on the refrigerator door, on the walls, through text, whenever they weren’t around one another--when Arthur went off to make more videos around London or Merlin went to teach the few students who still showed up to art class (they could still read a blackboard, after all).

_-I miss the sound of your voice._

_-Not as much as I miss yours._

_-I want the last thing I see to be you._

_-Me, too._

Once, Merlin scribbled down that he was scared, and then promptly threw the note in the trash bin, unsure if he wanted to know whether or not Arthur was just as terrified as he was.

* * *

People didn’t really leave their houses these days—crime was at an all-time high, and people who weren’t stealing or stabbing each other were wandering the streets aimlessly, looking as lost as they probably felt.

So when Merlin and Arthur lost their sense of sight, the last thing either man saw was, indeed, the other.

Arthur had been in the midst of making sandwiches for a dinner neither of them could taste, while Merlin sat at the kitchen table drawing him (for he still had his art—art that now decorated practically every inch of their flat, the one pastime he could still claim).

Merlin had playfully chucked his pencil at the back of Arthur’s head, and Arthur whirled around, pretending to scrunch up his face in irritation while Merlin let out a bell of a laugh he couldn’t hear—

And then everything was dark.

Having no way to orient himself, Merlin stood up sharply, holding out his hands. There were a thousand things he could’ve questioned at the moment, but the only thought on his mind was _Arthur_. Gingerly stepping forward, his steps as silent as his breathing, he needed wait only a moment before he collided with Arthur who immediately clamped his arms around him.

Merlin felt for Arthur’s face, holding it in his hands, leaning up and finding Arthur’s lips—catching them, holding them with his own. Arthur’s breath was hot—yes, yes, he could feel that—and his hair, his beautiful golden hair that Merlin could no longer see…

Something hot, wet…tears. Tears on Arthur’s face, mingling with those tickling Merlin’s eyelids…this was all they had, now.

Touch.

Merlin walked Arthur up against the kitchen wall, breathing hard, fingers fumbling to undo Arthur’s trousers. Arthur caught onto the move quickly, brushing Merlin’s fingers away to unbutton them himself. Merlin clamored to do the same, letting his trousers fall to his ankles before clumsily stepping out of them and desperately reaching for Arthur again.

Their teeth clumsily smashed together when they kissed once more, Merlin clutching Arthur’s hair as though the grip tethered him to earth. Arthur broke away to harshly nip at Merlin’s ear, reveling in the sensation of the way Merlin shivered at the touch. Roughly, he grabbed Merlin by the shoulders and spun him round.

Merlin, disoriented, lifted his hands in front of him to find that they met a wall—Arthur had pinned him to it.

This was all they had. Merlin, experiencing every sensation of Arthur’s lips on his skin with an electrified intensity, felt himself harden against the kitchen wall. His breath caught in his throat as Arthur’s fingers trailed down his sides, his hips, tugging at the waistline of his pants and shoving his hands under them, fingers cupping either of Merlin’s cheeks, parting them wide.

A beat of a moment went by, and Arthur pressed a tiny, chase kiss to the back of Merlin’s neck. A request for permission. Merlin reached back and felt for Arthur’s face, dragging his fingers along the skin there. An affirmative answer.

It was raw, and it hurt. Merlin choked out a cry, lowering his forehead to the cool wall as Arthur thrust into him once, twice, countless times. Pain and elation took turns overpowering him, prick swelling, throat dry, heart pounding, eyes rolling back…

He could feel Arthur shake. He could feel Arthur come, come right inside him, and it was the most beautiful feeling—more beautiful than he had ever felt, more beautiful than he ever thought he could feel again—

Until Arthur spun him around again, and when Merlin tried heatedly to find his lips, he felt them instead surrounding his own cock. Merlin threw his head back in the surprise sensation, skull thudding, cracking against the wall--but the pain was worth it, the pain was worth feeling; wasn’t it always?

Arthur’s tongue swirled, flicked, fluttered about Merlin’s length, lips gliding and teasing, and this was all they had. This was the last of everything and it was all they had ever needed. Touch, and each other.

He bucked rhythmically into Arthur’s mouth, aware of nothing but his own hammering blood in his veins and the touch that connected them. He found himself muttering spells and incantations in his head, ones that made fireworks and sparks of light that Gaius had taught him long ago. He couldn’t tell if he was saying them aloud. They were all he had to grasp what he felt—magic, grounding him amidst all this—all this feeling, and God, Arthur, oh, God—

No sooner had he come was Arthur’s mouth on his again, the wetness of saliva mixed with semen, and Merlin wished he’d used his eyes while he had them to look in all his magic texts for a way to stop time forever, to hold onto a single moment and keep it, hold it, always.

He and Arthur descended to the floor. A hand on Arthur’s chest let Merlin know the other was breathing just as hard as Merlin was. In the permanent dark, he found Arthur’s hands and twined them with his own.

* * *

 _Not with a bang, but with a whimper_.

This is it. Nothing more to lose, no more rousing speeches to make viral. This is the end.

As with the last time this happened, Arthur found himself a bit dissatisfied. His kingdom had grown a lot since he’d last attempted to salvage it, but at least last time he’d managed to defend it with his last breath and Merlin had been around after to ensure it remained defended. Lying on the kitchen floor next to his sorcerer, naked and bruised, he figures this time the circumstances do not allow for such a valiant death.

In a moment he won’t be able to discern his own breathing. With any luck, a handful of moments after that he will be dead.

The KingArthur project had been a way to reach the world in a way most world leaders were afraid to, Merlin had said. A way to force people to be as inherently human and honest with each other as possible, without making things hurt more than they needed to. A war without casualties. And with all the views and responses, perhaps they had done their job, at least for a little while.

But in the end, it had been about Merlin and Arthur preserving their own sanity. Trying their hardest to keep the world from crumbling to bits, and doing so together.

He finds Merlin’s hand beside him. Merlin squeezes it tightly. Arthur squeezes back, hard.

He is conscious of his continued existence, though after a while he cannot feel the tiled floor on which he lay, the warmth of Merlin's hand.

 _I love you_ , he thinks, not for the last time.  He survives in the knowledge that Merlin is thinking the same.

Merlin is.

Unlike the last time, they become bones together, hands eternally entwined—together at the start of magic, of civilization, of a world they helped forge—and together at its end.


End file.
